


Seven Sleeps

by TheSightlessSniper



Category: Suits (TV)
Genre: Comedy, Developing Relationship, Donna is the Queen of Tequila, Drunkenness, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Katrina and Mike are one of my many BroTPs, M/M, Napping, OOC, Out of Character, Sexual Tension, This entire fic is a mish-mash of emotion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-03
Updated: 2017-09-03
Packaged: 2018-12-23 04:15:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11981931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSightlessSniper/pseuds/TheSightlessSniper
Summary: "They’d been working on a case in Mike’s apartment, one scotch turned into several, and he’d dozed off with his nose in one of the contracts for a merger—the Walsh-Michaelis files were more dull than listening to Louis wax lyrical about the ballet for the seventh time that week."





	Seven Sleeps

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Loyalty2WayStreet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Loyalty2WayStreet/gifts), [sal_si_puedes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sal_si_puedes/gifts).



> So apparently I am now working out my stresses by writing again. I don't know what switch got flipped, but I wrote this pretty much in one night, and made some adjustments to it the next.
> 
> Gifting this to the first few people in the Suits fandom who spoke to me on Tumblr. One of them isn't mentioned here, but they know who they are!

When Harvey first napped in Mike’s presence, it had been an accident.

They’d been working on a case in Mike’s apartment, one scotch turned into several, and he’d dozed off with his nose in one of the contracts for a merger—the Walsh-Michaelis files were more dull than listening to Louis wax lyrical about the ballet for the seventh time that week.

Mike woke him up at six AM, the smell of crispy bacon between two thick slices of lightly-toasted wholewheat drifting into his nostrils from the plate resting near his chest.

 

When it happened the second time, Harvey had awoken to a neatly-trimmed fingernail tapping at his shirt. Rachel’s pretty and tired-looking face smiled down at him; clearly she’d only just gotten back from the office. ‘It’s one AM,’ she stated softly, gesturing to Mike’s sleeping form next to him, head resting barely six inches from his own and drooling onto the back of the couch.

Rachel tucked a blanket over Mike, and offered a second one to Harvey, and he had quickly fallen back to sleep next to his associate. The three had devoured breakfast together the next morning, Harvey’s mind replaying the memory of Mike’s calm, sleeping face the entire time.

 

The third time, they hadn’t been working.

Harvey had almost passed out at the office after coming down with the flu, and instead of sending him home by himself to collapse and likely concuss himself, Jessica had called up Ray to drop him to Mike’s apartment. Rachel wasn’t home—visiting some old college friends a few states over—so Mike had tucked Harvey in with as many blankets as possible, cracking open a bottle of NyQuil—‘It’s technically got alcohol in it, right?’—and cooking him a bowl of the most delicious pasta he’d ever tasted in his life. They’d spent the entire evening watching House MD, with Mike periodically getting up to fetch cool damp cloths from a ziplock bag in the refrigerator to place on Harvey’s burning head.

In between unintentional but completely uncontrollable naps, Harvey woke up to a strange sensation on his forehead, and blinked his eyes open to Mike’s lips pressed between his eyebrows.

Mike smiled softly down at him, stroking a hand through his mussed—up hair. ‘When I was younger and I got sick, Grammy used to kiss my forehead to check my temperature. Used to make me feel a little better.’

Harvey blinked through sleep-watery eyes, subconsciously leaning into the touch. ‘Mm.’

‘Never seen you get sick before. Kind of freaked me out—it’s like watching Batman crash the Batmobile.’

‘I’d never crash the Batmobile.’ That was all Harvey remembered; the next moment, he’d fallen back to sleep, the phantom sensation of Mike’s lips still cool against his feverish brow.

He’d awoken the next morning with a clearer head, but completely mortified, sneaking out of the door and calling a cab home long before Mike was out of bed.

Mike said nothing about it at work when Harvey returned later on that week, but left him a coffee on his desk before heading back to the bullpen without another word.

 

The fourth time, it had been the other way around; Mike had crashed on his couch after celebrating winning a case with watching a marathon of The Walking Dead. Harvey wasn’t the biggest fan of it in the world, but Mike was desperate to watch the latest season, so he’d kept the recordings of the episodes on his DVR and invited him over.

It was that fourth time where something changed. Somewhere between Negan happily taking a baseball bat to someone’s head, and just enough drink to lower inhibition, Mike had reached for the remote to start the next episode, and accidentally brushed fingers over the inside of Harvey’s thigh.

He’d grabbed it before he could pull it away, the touch burning all the way down his leg and up through his groin like an electric shock.

Mike looked up at him, eyes wide like a deer caught in the headlights of an eighteen-wheeler. ‘…Harvey?’

‘Did you mean to do that?’

‘…No. But—‘ he swallowed audibly— ‘what if I said that I’d been thinking about it?’

His heart raced, pounding under his ribcage as he gestured with his chin to Mike’s glass. ‘How many did you have?’

‘Not enough that you should feel guilty if this goes any further than an accidental touch, but enough that I’ve got the balls to admit I wish I’d touched you intentionally.’

He didn’t move. ‘What about Rachel?’

‘We’ve…been having issues. She’s staying at her parents’ house for a few weeks.’

Harvey looked away, but didn’t let go of his wrist.

Mike leaned back, the tension in his body still evident in the outstretched arm as he sat back against the cushions. And as the next episode started, their fingers slowly slipped together.

They didn’t do anything besides hold hands. But for a few seconds in his inebriated state, Harvey wished that he had gone against his moral compass and taken that irreversible step.

When Mike fell asleep, Harvey jerked off in the shower, three fingers stuffed inside himself and fucking into his own fist under the hot stream of water. In spite of his exhaustion, he struggled to sleep that night.

Mike said nothing the next morning, and left before Harvey finished cooking breakfast.

 

The fifth time had nothing to do with a couch.

Harvey was halfway through reading an old file—the Walsh-Michaelis merger had brought forth more business and they were pulling in another partner—when there had been a knock at his door.

Mike stood in the hallway, soaked to the skin with tears streaming down his cheeks. ‘She’s gone. Rachel’s gone. She’s moving to Chicago to join Jessica.’

Pulling Mike through the door, still dripping from the storm outside, he quickly peeled away his drenched outer layers, leaving him in his white shirt and tie as he pushed him towards his bathroom. He wrapped Mike up in fresh towels, soaking up as much of the water as he could, trying to ignore just how translucent the rain had made the dress shirt against the pale skin underneath.

Mike shivered, sniffling into the corner of one of the towels. ‘She said that if I loved her, I’d join her.’

‘…You do love her.’

‘Yes. But she was asking me to uproot everything.’

‘Mike…’ Harvey leaned against the counter, turning to the sink and filling a glass with water. He picked two pills out of a tub on the counter—herbal stress relief tablets Katrina had recommended—and set them on the flat edge of the bathtub next to Mike.

The other shook his head, damp locks mussing up. ‘I didn’t want to go. I didn’t want to leave. I love her…but I love my life here more.’

‘Mike—‘

‘I love my life here with you more.’

That night, Harvey fell asleep in his bed next to Mike, the other wearing one of his t-shirts and a pair of his sweats, and their arms wrapped tightly around each other as Mike silently and motionlessly cried against his chest.

Harvey’s heart leapt, and broke, all at the same time.

 

Mike adjusted to the break-up slowly after that. He and Katrina became closer, going out drinking together and openly commiserating over failed past relationships, and Harvey took that as a sign that the emotional connection that might have been budding between himself and Mike was over before it had even begun, and that he was getting over Rachel by getting under Katrina.

And then came Katrina in all her drunk glory.

The woman stumbled through the door to Harvey’s condo, eyes bleary with alcohol, but still sharp as ever as they focused on him. ‘Did you—hic—did you know that Mike—Mike…I wish he’d let me call him Mikey. It’s a cute nickname and he has such soft features—‘

‘Katrina? It’s nearly two AM. Your reason for being drunk in my doorway is…?’

‘I love Mikey. He’s like…he’s like the brother I wished I’d always had to watch shows with—did you know he can quote The Wire word for word? Any—hic—anyway…what was I saying?’ she wobbled over to one of the seats at Harvey’s breakfast counter, leaning her head on one hand.

‘You love Mike like he’s your brother.’

‘RIGHT! He’s adorable and he—HIIC!—sorry, he deserves to be happy after the whole Rachel thing went the way of the dodo. And you and he have this great…’ her sentence trailed off, and her face suddenly went white. ‘Oh god, bathroom.’

He grabbed her arm, quickly directing her to the toilet, where he barely had a second to pull her blonde locks away from her face before she bent over the bowl and expelled what she had drank earlier that night.

After a few minutes, she leaned back, breathing heavily and waving at the hand raking her hair away from the line of fire. ‘Ugh…’

Harvey let go, reaching for the glass he kept on the counter and filling it with water as he’d previously done for Mike just a month before, then passed it to her carefully.

She gave him a grateful drunk smile. ‘You and Mikey would be a great couple.’

Harvey’s stomach fluttered, hesitating, but he recovered quick. ‘What makes you say that?’

She gulped the water, the least traditionally ladylike that he had ever seen her before, then leaned her head on the toilet seat. ‘You two have this chemistry. You’re like Batman and Robin. Homoerotic subtext included.’

‘Just how much did you drink tonight? Was Donna with you? Did she start ordering tequila shots? Because that’s when you know you’re screwed—the woman can outdrink anyone if it involves Jack and Jim’s buddy Jose.’

‘I’m serious, Harvey. You could be good for him…you know, if you stop being a jerk outside of work hours.’

‘Katrina…’ Harvey slid down against the sink counter, her eyes boring holes into his face. ‘Look, don’t tell anyone I told you this, but…we…we had this moment, back when he was still with Rachel. And I am all against cheating on other people. But…’

’But?’

‘I seriously considered telling morality to go fuck itself.’

Even with an imminent hangover waiting to happen, Katrina's stare with as intense as it had ever been. When he looked back up, though, there was no judgement. There was only a soft smile behind slightly smeared lipstick.

And then two seconds later, her head was back in the toilet, the loud and horrific retching continuing long into the early hours.

They said nothing else. When Katrina was finally done, he helped her to his bed and tucked her in.

The sixth time, Mike wasn’t there to witness Harvey fall asleep. Harvey fell asleep alone on the couch, wishing that he was.

 

When he knocked on Mike’s door the next morning, a cup of coffee in one hand and bagels in the other, the other greeted him wearing a pair of sunglasses.

Despite the nerves of what he was about to do, Harvey grinned. ‘Rough night?’

‘…You’re loud. Why are you loud?’

‘I’m speaking at a normal volume level. On a scale ofpost-2013 Christmas party to Mexican nights at Donna’s, how bad are you feeling right now?’

‘No, no no no no no. This goes beyond that. This is the Hiroshima of hangovers. This is Pearl Harbour on steroids. This is…Dr. Robert Oppenheimer level of hungover.’

Harvey’s grin grew wider, but he pushed the fresh coffee under Mike’s hungover nose. ‘So Nostradamus couldn’t have seen this coming?’

‘If he did, he could have at least had the decency to have left a note warning the future generations to not let me drink with Donna.’

He waved the hot cup in Mike’s face. ’Can you stomach this?’

‘Columbian?’

‘Dark roast, splash of milk, two sugars, and one shot of bitter hot chocolate.’

‘And the bag?’

‘Sesame bagels, toasted, cream cheese in a pot to the side, no smoked salmon.’

‘Are you actually Donna? Is this her way of saying “I’m sorry I poured twelve shots of Jose’s finest and his other Mexican amigos down your throat”?’

Harvey rolled his eyes, trailing behind Mike into the apartment and immediately raising an eyebrow at the surroundings. Since Rachel had moved out, taking some of the furniture and decorations with her, the room was much sparser than he remembered, the walls barer than they had been even with the panda picture that had belonged to Mike’s grandmother now taking pride of place above the fireplace.

He watched, drinking his own coffee as Mike slowly made his way through the bagels. While he still looked less than ideal, by the time he made it to the second, he was taking bigger bites, and his eyes were looking brighter when they peered out from behind the sunglasses.

When he was done, he crumpled the bag that the food had been wrapped in, chucking it vaguely at the bin in the corner of the kitchen and missing hopelessly.

Mike pulled the sunglasses off his nose and threw them down onto the coffee table with a quiet clatter. ‘You remember that time we played Horse in your office?’

‘Jessica saved your ass from losing horribly.’

‘She didn’t know how that game was going to go.’

‘Then why did you thank her?’

At that, Mike narrowed his eyes at him, glaring playful daggers in his direction as he leaned back against the arm of the couch. ‘If you thought I looked bad before, you should have seen Katrina before she left last night. There was me, her, Harold, Donna, and Benjamin. Oh yeah…she kissed Harold as a forfeit for a drinking game, and his face almost went purple. He lit up like a Christmas tree.’

‘I saw her already.’

‘On your way here?’

‘She came to my apartment last night.’

Silence crashed the room. Mike’s playful expression melted away, and he sucked in a slow breath, his words terse. ‘Oh.’

‘Mike—‘

‘No, I get it. She’s absolutely beautiful. Anyone would be lucky to be with her.’

‘That’s not—‘

‘I mean, I’m not attracted to her in that way. She’s kind of like that sister I always wanted, to watch movies and TV shows with—‘

‘Mike—‘

‘You two could work out, find your happily ever after in paperwork and courtrooms and—‘

‘MIKE!’ Harvey’s voice boomed through the apartment, stopping Mike in his babbling. One of the upstairs neighbours—an old man with nothing else to do, from the sounds of it—smacked his cane against the floor above, the vague rumble of complaints about the noise below getting through the thick division between the floors. He looked to Mike, watching him hunch over with a strange desolation marring his still-boyish features, and his heart skipped.

Mike slowly looked up at him. ‘Harvey?’

He sighed. ‘Katrina spent the night at mine last night. She barged in, started saying stuff about how she wanted to call you Mikey because she thought it was a cute nickname, then spent until four AM vomiting in my bathroom. I let her sleep in my bed for the night, and I took the couch. When she left this morning, she looked pretty much as rough as you did when you opened the door.’ Harvey reached across the couch, placing a hand shakily on Mike’s knee and flattening it around the joint. ‘Mike?’

The other shook his head. ‘…So nothing happened?’

‘Nothing. I don’t like Katrina like that. She’s beautiful, talented, intelligent, and powerful. But that doesn’t mean I want her to jump me or vice-versa,’ he reassured. A little thrill ran through him; Mike looked calmer the second he had said those words.

He shifted, awkwardly sitting up a little straighter against the sofa arm. ‘That night—’

‘That night, I wanted to throw everything I believe in out of the window for you. I wanted to take you in my arms. I wanted to pin you up against the glass and fuck you into it for the whole world to see. I wanted…I wanted to take you to my bed and make love to you over and over and claim you as mine.’ His own bold words shocked even him, flooding possessively out of his mouth like a geyser.

Mike’s eyes widened, cheeks reddening. ‘That’s a little more forward than I was expecting from you.’

‘Yeah, well…I’m sick of beating around the bush when I could just walk the straight path.’

‘I don’t think straight is the right word here.’ The comment was almost playful behind the bashfulness. ‘So this isn’t just coming from me?’

Harvey shrugged. ’If I’m honest, I don’t think it’s ever just been coming from you. If anything, it was coming from me first.’

‘You always have to one-up me.’

‘No joke about coming first?’

A chuckle rumbled out of the other man as he planted his feet on the floor. He watched Mike turn to him, eyes seeking his and gazing back affectionately, but apprehensively. ‘Harvey, I really want that. But Rachel and I broke up a really short while ago. I’m still getting my bearings. You don’t have to, but…would you wait? For me to be ready, I mean?’

‘Do you even really have to ask that?’

‘…’

‘I’ve waited a long time for you, Mike. I don’t mind waiting a little more. Not for you.’

Harvey left Mike’s apartment shortly after that, cheek tingling from the kiss Mike had left him with.

 

The seventh time, it was post-coital.

When Mike had been ready, Harvey had been waiting. And seemingly the wait had been too long for both of them; ten minutes after Mike walked through the door to the condo, Harvey was in his lap, sinking down onto him and moaning deep and low in his throat.

Mike’s hips rose up off the seats the best they could from underneath him, hands gripping Harvey’s thighs as he moved atop him. ‘Harvey…’

‘Fuck, a little to—THERE!’

‘God I never thought you’d like it like this—’

‘You’re amazing—harder!’

Mike panted against his ear, nipping at his jaw. ‘Lean back.’

He complied, keening as the movement put constant pressure on his sweet spot. Mike’s hips shifted beneath his own, and his hands gripped tightly at Mike as the other slammed upwards into him.

When he couldn’t take any more, Harvey let go with one hand and stroked himself, orgasm hitting fast and hard as it landed in messy splatters against their stomachs, just as Mike groaned and finished inside him. He’d forgotten completely about condoms in the rush, but he could trust that Mike wasn’t carrying any diseases or illnesses; the results of his last work-mandated medical had accidentally fallen onto Harvey’s desk after getting mixed up with his own, showing that he was clean as a whistle.

He was still not a hundred-percent sure that had actually been an accident; Donna had been smug all day when he pointed out the mix-up.

Mike stilled, mouth moving lazily against his throat. ‘God, Harvey.’

‘Not expecting me to go all power-bottom on you?’

‘Well, yeah that too, but more not expecting you to come that hard. I felt it inside you.’

‘How was it?’

‘Like you have to ask. Heaven on earth, you smug asshole.’ Mike pulled him closer again, and Harvey rested his forehead on Mike’s shoulder, catching his breath. The length of flesh inside him was still stiff, and as he leaned into the embrace, it nudged the spot inside him again and choked another quiet groan out of him right against Mike’s neck.

The other chuckled, and then lifted his hips again.

They kept going until neither of them couldn’t go anymore, and when they’d finished, drenched in sweat and come and saliva, they fell asleep together and didn’t move until sunrise.

After that night, Harvey stopped counting.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed the fic.


End file.
